Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 99918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
“Dad can do that, for sure. He sees the good in everyone except any guy we try to date, then there’s nothing but bad,” Cate said. That had him laughing as the elevator doors opened. The party was a few feet away with a stage directly across from them. The entire lobby was full of Secret employees.
“I was a teenage boy once, so I get that,” Tristan said, giving her a wink. He walked out into the crowd with his arm still around Cate’s shoulder. “Showtime.”
Damn, his feet were sore. Dylan stepped off the elevator, trying to decide if these new Italian loafers were headed for the trash can. With every passing minute, his feet hurt worse and worse and that said something for a man who ran miles every day. Ten or so hours after arriving at Secret’s headquarters, he was finally able to come back upstairs to the peace and quiet of the executive office area and decide the fate of these stupidly expensive shoes.
“Great day, boss,” Rob said, catching Dylan off guard. He instinctively lifted a hand, knowing a high five was inevitable. Rob grinned ear to ear, much like Dylan himself, even though his thoughts were focused on his feet. The exhausting day had finally come to an end with a dinner reception for the local media. His stomach let out a loud rumble, expressing its own anger that he hadn’t been able to take even a small bite of food since this morning. “I’m heading out to dinner now. Wanna grab a bite?”
Dylan pretended to contemplate the offer. Under normal circumstances, he would have taken Rob up on the suggestion, but not tonight. Tristan was somewhere in this building with plans to head back home first thing in the morning. Their evening together had already been cut short with the dinner reception.
“Where is he?” Dylan asked.
“In your office. He complained about the lighting in the office he was using. I called maintenance. They’ll get that worked out before he comes back. To be honest, I didn’t see a difference, but he did.” Rob shrugged.
Dylan just nodded. He looked over at his office and grinned. He couldn’t wait to see Tristan. His heart sped up, and he had the familiar butterflies in his belly at the thought of Tristan sitting in there waiting for him. Lighting, huh? The brilliant business mogul, entrepreneur, and philanthropist couldn’t come up with a better excuse than bad lighting?
“I should probably stick around, then,” Dylan whispered when Rob began to lower his things, looking like he might wait on him. Dylan rushed on to say, “You go. I’ll call you if I can break free, but I have a boss now. That’s gonna be different.”
“Yeah, you do!” Rob said, slapping Dylan on the back as he walked out. “I’ll hold a spot for you down at the Mac.”
Dylan waited until the elevator doors shut, taking Rob downstairs, and then checked David’s office. The lights were turned out and he was gone. Dylan shut off the interior foyer light where his assistant sat and locked the suite’s door from the inside. Only then did he make his way to his office. His breathing picked up when he opened that door and saw Tristan in the far corner sitting at his four-top table. The man was busily typing away on his laptop, his suit jacket neatly draped over the back of the chair next to him. He’d loosened his tie and undone a few buttons on his neatly pressed dress shirt. Tristan never looked away from his laptop, typing a few more strokes and hitting a final key before he glanced up at Dylan and extended his hand.
“Don’t be mad. I stayed over here in the corner the whole time,” Tristan said as Dylan shut the door and twisted the lock.
“I’m not mad. Is the lighting really bad?” Dylan asked, walking toward him.
“Of course not. It’s all I could come up with, and for the record, Rob tried real hard to get the problem worked out for me. He stood on the table, working with the equipment. I seriously thought he might pull out a tool belt, but then he just gave up and opened this door to me.” Dylan stared down at him. One of the most well-known pioneers in their industry could only come up with lighting problems as an excuse. For some reason, that just tickled Dylan to no end. Hell, Tristan now owned the entire company. He could have just come inside the office and shut the door.
“I know—stop looking at me like that. It’s almost nine o’clock. I leave in the morning. I’m a man in love. I wanted to be around you. If not you, then your things.” Ah, that was much better and Dylan smiled. He had to admit, he liked coming in to see Tristan waiting on him.
“It’s fine.” Dylan stepped closer and palmed Tristan’s upturned face, then kissed him right on the lips. The kiss was no more than a soft brushing of lips, and it lasted only seconds before Dylan spoke. “What a seriously great day, but you bailed on the reception.”
“It took me about five minutes to see those people didn’t want to talk to me. It was all about you and your success. You were a hit today. I haven’t seen you like this before. You’re such a gentleman. I picked well.” Tristan pushed the laptop to the center of the table and leaned back in his oversized chair, so Dylan propped himself against the table. Tristan ran his palm along Dylan’s thigh, caressing and stroking him gently with that big smile still in place. The touch was one of encouragement, not sexually provoking like Dylan’s body always tuned into.
“That’s not true. They stayed glued to you during the press conference. Those were the same people at the dinner,” Dylan said.
“I wanted to do some paperwork, check on our progress. Look, we’re trending huge right now. Biggest hashtag of the day was Wilder-Loves-A-Secret.” Tristan cocked his head to the side, looking past Dylan to his computer. Dylan followed his gaze and looked down at the screen. A grid sat open, tracking the trend minute by minute.